


Defective Boomerang

by nyanbacon



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst, Choking, Crying, Death, Denial, Grief, Hurt No Comfort, Other, conscious during death, dying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:42:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22488865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyanbacon/pseuds/nyanbacon
Summary: What if you couldn't feel someone holding your hand as you died?Special thanks to my beta VioletThePorama.
Relationships: Sokka & The Gaang (Avatar)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 86





	Defective Boomerang

There was a kind of peace about dying that Sokka had never thought about before. He lay amongst crushed bushes in a pool of his own (and maybe others’) blood. His vision was blurry and he couldn’t hear his friends- or anything, for that matter. And yet, despite all that, he felt, for the first time since his mom died, like everything would be... okay. Like they’d figure it out, eventually. Once this was all over and they were a group again. 

Sokka heard a voice, fuzzy and nondescript but familiar, and he opened his eyes- which he didn’t realize were closed- to see Aang hovering above him. He was pretty sure it was Aang, at least. No other orange blob he knew floated.

“Oh gods…” He murmured, before turning his head. “He’s over here!” 

Everything sharpened into focus abruptly. With the noise suddenly returning to his ears, too loud, too fast, the shout made him flinch, and the flinch made pain shoot up his whole body. His heart felt like it was squeezing needles through his bloodstream, and he gasped. Any tranquility he’d felt before was replaced by fear and adrenaline. When had he gotten hurt?  _ Where _ was he hurt? He didn’t remember…

Katara, ever the mother hen, was the next to appear in his vision, off to his left, falling to her knees at his side. He couldn’t tell what was dancing in her blue eyes, but past the pain and tingling numbness in his arm, he could feel her grabbing his hand. He couldn’t return the sentiment.

“Sokka…” Her voice broke. She sounded like she was drowning.

He forced a smile. Judging by the grimace Aang recoiled with, there was blood on his teeth. How much blood  _ was _ there? He couldn’t feel, much less judge how much there was. He was afraid to move and try and figure it out. “Hey Katara.”

She opened her mouth, but Zuko and Toph appeared on the other side of his vision. Toph’s shoulder was bleeding, and her other arm was wrapped around Zuko’s waist as she limped on one good foot. Zuko glanced at Sokka’s lower half, and quickly averted his gaze, looking pale at the sight of blood. Or maybe he was already pale? He never  _ seemed _ pale, but he didn’t seem like the kind of guy to leave the protection of shade a whole lot either.

The pain and wandering thoughts were pierced by a cold feeling and he sucked in a breath. He choked on something hot and metallic and coughed violently. His lips were left wet.

“Keep still,” Katara urged.

“Katara.” Toph’s empty eyes bored into Sokka’s, and he stared back. Never before had he looked at her straight on, but he suddenly couldn’t look away. He could see the truth in her teary gaze, no matter how much he didn’t want to admit it.

He wasn’t going to make it.

“No!” Katara snapped. Her waterbending grew cold, icy cold, or maybe that was just the numbness spreading from… it was his torso. It must’ve been. He was pretty sure. “He  _ can’t _ die!”

Aang slowly lowered his feet to the ground. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his young voice suddenly small and weak. “This is my fault. If I hadn’t…”

“This isn’t your fault,” Katara said sternly- or as sternly as she could, considering how badly her voice was shaking. “He’ll be fine, and then we can go track down the attackers and fix this.” Despite the waver, she sounded so  _ confident _ . So confident in the lie.

He felt really, really tired. He was hearing it, hearing it all, hearing every word they said, but it wasn’t really registering, not enough to put any critical thinking behind it. He was dying. Aang was sorry. Toph was crying. The world continued on. 

The cold feeling left his torso and now he was just wet and numb. He couldn’t move his toes. He didn’t think that mattered. Toes were useless anyway. Soft hands pressed against his cheeks and he peeled his eyes open again.

“I know who did it,” Zuko said. His voice sounded wonky. Sokka felt ill, and light-headed. He wished he could die faster. “We can track them down.”

“After…” Aang’s voice faltered. Was he crying? Sokka couldn’t tell. “After we bury him.”

“He’s not dying!” Katara cried, gripping his cheeks tighter in her hands. He stared up at her, at her watery eyes, at the way her disheveled hair framed her face, just like her mom.

She looked  _ so much _ like mom that it hurt. 

He forced a smile again, weaker. His lip trembled. “I’ll be okay,” Sokka whispered. His voice was hoarse. Had they heard him?

Toph finally looked away, focusing on the ground rather than him, like he was so used to. Zuko didn’t look at the blood. Aang stood, alone, staring at it all, staring at it guiltily, looking sick. Katara held the sides of his face, rubbing her thumbs over his cheeks like he was sick, or had just woken up from a bad dream. She only did that when he was crying. He didn’t realize he was crying.

He was so tired. Maybe the numb feeling in his fingertips would be gone when he woke up in the morning.

His eyes drifted closed.

Katara screamed. 


End file.
